


makes a cathedral

by wastrelwoods



Series: jupeter d/s [3]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Good Old-Fashioned Face-Fucking, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Trans Juno Steel, Wall Sex, i love...a canonically nonbinary lady, juno...maybe has an opinion about them, peter...has some teeth, so maybe... semi-public sex, technically alley sex too oops haha, the D/s vibes are maybe too strong for me to not tag it accordingly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 12:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11989776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastrelwoods/pseuds/wastrelwoods
Summary: "Shit," he whines, "Shit, goddamnit, Nurey--'He leans back down to swallow the rest of the name before it can slide between Juno's lips. "Now, darling," he warns, breath hot against Juno's ear, "A lady ought to practice discretion, don't you think?"





	makes a cathedral

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i have my priorities out of whack enough to move straight on to THIS fic before finishing the last part but it's hard to relax and enjoy writing a fic you've been procrastinating on for six months, ya know? i figured this would be a welcome addition to the series anyway

Juno groans, and Nureyev's teeth scrape over the column of his neck again, little prickling lines of heat and pressure and just enough of an ache to make it worth his time. He rolls his hips up against Peter's and gets a firm push against the bricks at his back for his trouble. 

Every point of Peter's body pressed against his is burning hot, raw sensation tearing him up from the inside, and he throws his head back and gasps, low and ragged, because he can't remember what name he's supposed to be calling out. "Fucking hell," is what he finally manages, at length, while Peter runs his lips over the stubble at Juno's jaw and presses him back against the wall like he wants to tattoo the shape of his body into it. He's goddamn relentless.

His hips slide against Juno's again, heavy and hard and slow enough to draw a high keening noise from Juno's throat. One of Peter's hands is wrapped around Juno's wrist, pinning his arm above his head, and the other is wrapped tight in his hair, moving Juno just where he wants him. 

That keening noise hasn't even finished leaving Juno's mouth when Peter tugs his head closer and starts biting at his lower lip, those sharp teeth pulling at the bruised skin there. Juno can't do a damn thing about it but pant into Peter's mouth while he runs his tongue over Juno's teeth, not till he finally pulls away to let him breathe, breaking the kiss off. 

Juno tries to chase him when he does, wants to kiss him like that forever. Breathing, he thinks, is goddamn overrated anyway. But Peter's holding him fast, Peter's not about to let him go for anything. "Shit," he whines, "Shit, goddamnit, Nurey--"

Peter leans back down to swallow the rest of the name before it can slide between Juno's lips, takes the very air out of Juno's lungs, it feels like, unwraps his hand from Juno's wrist and twines their fingers together and presses his hand back against the brick again. "Now, darling," he warns, breath hot against Juno's ear, "A lady ought to practice discretion, don't you think?"

"Show you discreet," Juno grunts, tries to roll his hips up against Peter's again, but Peter's other hand has left his head and migrated down to his side, holding him down and sliding under the hem of his shirt all at once. His fingertips burn like laser brands against the skin of Juno's belly.

"Oh, I'm sure you will." Juno gasps as Peter runs sharp teeth over the shell of his ear. "Shh-hh, quietly, love."

Juno grits his teeth to hold back the answering moan, drowning in the feeling of those silk lips against his skin all over again, and he can't help the shudder that runs down his spine when Peter grins and presses his mouth to Juno's one more time. 

People just aren't built to withstand the kind of onslaught that is Peter Nureyev slowly and methodically taking them apart against a brick wall in a back alley. Maybe Juno especially. He'd fall apart for anything given half the chance, but Peter is something else entirely. Something completely unique. One of a goddamn kind. 

"Nnn--Rex," he pants, soon as Peter gives him the opportunity, "Rose. Jade, Orion, shit, I can't--' 

Peter laughs, bright and melodic and pitched low with arousal, and Juno can't think, just opens his mouth like an idiot, and what comes out is a groan, and a plea: "Sh-shut up and fuck my face already."

Peter's laugh breaks off into a low, breathy noise, and his fingers flex where they're resting just below his ribs. His other hand drops away from Juno's, reaches back to cradle his jaw and kiss him again, lips and tongue and then the teeth again, so slow and forceful it's driving Juno out of his mind. "It would be my pleasure, darling," he croons, and steps just far enough back to let Juno slide down to his knees.

He hits the ground fast and hard, jarred slightly by the impact, but Peter's hand is still cradling the side of his neck and the other is busy working his slacks open, drawing them down his thighs and sliding his panties down right after. Red lace. Very tasteful. 

Juno feels like he might burst into flames. 

He moves his hands to the backs of Peter's thighs and leans in to lick a stripe up the side of his dick, lying heavy and flush against his belly. His eye flicks up to Peter's face while he does it, taking in the high color across his cheeks, the lust shining in his bright eyes, the way his mouth goes slack when Juno swallows him down. 

It's good. But it could be better. 

Juno reaches up for Peter's other hand and moves it to the crown of his head, doesn't let go until those fingers are twined tight in his curls and Peter's nails are scraping along his scalp. Peter groans, softly, throwing his head back and shifting his hips forward to slide his cock deeper into Juno's throat. 

He makes a noise of enthusiastic approval, likely incomprehensible around the cock in his mouth, and Peter thrusts forward again, hard, and Juno loves this. He loves anything when it's with Peter, anything Peter is willing to give him, for as long as he's willing to give it. 

Juno loves everything about blowing Peter, but maybe this most of all, Peter tugging on his hair and pulling him down onto his cock til there's no room in his chest left for air and Junos' nose is pressed flush against his belly. Peter gasping out Juno's name in a low, sweet voice, his thighs tensing till he's almost trembling. 

"Oh, Juno, darling _yes_ ," Peter grunts, and swears in a language Juno's never even heard before, fucking hard and fast into his open mouth, his thumb brushing tenderly along the ridge of Juno's cheek in a dizzying contrast to the force of his thrusts. Juno moans in reply, his jaw straining and his throat working and his lungs burning and his blood running so hot in his veins that he must be on the verge of melting, or combusting, or both. When he glances up he can see Peter's eyes falling shut, his head thrown back and his long throat bared. Not only taking Juno apart now, but coming apart himself. Of course, he's more elegant about it than Juno could ever hope to be.

He's like a sunrise, maybe. Or a supernova. Juno doesn't know which. He's a little preoccupied, but the point is even the way he fucks Juno's throat is the kind of thing to inspire poetry. 

Peter tugs at Juno's hair and looks down at him again, his dark eyes shining and glassy with want, quiet gasps falling from his lips for a long instant before he can manage to choke out, "Close, love. Oh, Juno, I'm so--"

And Juno's world is spinning so fast he's sure he's dangerously near that precipice himself, so he swallows around Nureyev hard, trying to pull him over the edge, and is rewarded with a hastily smothered cry from Peter as his knees buckle and he throws out an arm to catch himself on the wall at Juno's back. And then Peter's coming down Juno's throat in hot spurts, still holding Juno just where he wants him, the sound of his ragged exhalations breaking over and over him in waves. 

For a long moment, it's just that, Peter burning white-hot and perfectly still above him, so radiant with pleasure it would take Juno's breath away if he had any left to give. 

Then he pulls away, and Juno feels the loss like the blade of a knife even as he doubles over and gasps needily for air, come dripping down his chin. He needs...god, he just needs a _little more_. 

Just a little more of Peter, who sinks down beside him and presses him firmly into the wall again, pressing his mouth to Juno's throat and the heel of his hand against the line of Juno's dick, through his pants. Juno bucks up into the touch like it just might kill him, whining and shivering and too pent-up to form a single coherent word. 

"That's it, love," Peter mumbles against the side of his neck, moving his hand away and then back again as he works open Juno's pants and wraps his fingers around him, squeezing gently, and Juno can't stand it another goddamn second. He grunts like he's taking a punch and lets go, lets Peter pin him to the wall and kiss him full on the mouth to muffle the scream that orgasm pulls from some hot place in the center of his chest. Lets Peter mumble something inarticulate about how beautiful and lovely and divine Juno is like this while he fights to catch his breath.

He looks Peter up and down as the world starts sliding back into focus again, and thinks idly about the aching, solid, warm feeling still burning in the center of his chest. If he tries he could probably pretend it's another bruise, but these days...he's starting to know better. 

"Alright?" Peter asks him, a lazy half-smile turning up his mouth at the corners, and Juno keeps looking him over because he can't think of a single goddamn good reason to look away just yet. 

"Never better," he manages, and his voice comes out pleasantly raw. Peter's smile gets just a little wider.

**Author's Note:**

> in tru jupeter fic fashion i did once again pull the title from a siken poem, this passage from "saying your names" that runs 
> 
> Makes a cathedral, him pressing against  
> me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe  
> his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me  
> like stars
> 
> find me on tumblr @wastrelwoods! i have strong opinions about things and i like pretty landscapes and also girls


End file.
